back in the saddle

Since the last time I blogged, much has happened. I say that every time I take a hiatus from writing but it's true. Life continues and things progress whether I write about it or not.

But this time we added a whole new family member to the group. Calvin Scott Hunter was born a month early on February 21, 2019. He came out after 3 pushes with the cord wrapped around his neck twice. Luckily, it was only loosely wrapped and the bigger concerns were that he couldn't regulate his body temperature and his blood sugar was dangerously low. 

However, he's not one to stay down and after only 2.5 days in the NICU, he came home, looking like a baby doll in his big car seat, weighing in at only 5lbs 13 oz.

Yesterday we celebrated his 1st birthday and he is thriving. He's on the cusp of walking, pulling himself around furniture and climbing on things. He is a joy of a baby but he will definitely let his opinions be known when he wants something.

This year has been filled with other things too. We went on a family reunion trip with Jason's family to Colorado in June, I had a hysterectomy in November, a Thanksmas trip to Dallas in December and then I had carpal tunnel surgery last week.

Busy, fun and necessary describes this last year.

And through it all I've had very few mental health ups and downs. My medications have kept me incredibly steady (except for an incident with a breast feeding medication that I'll talk about later). I've had the normal hormonal issues that come from having a baby and a hysterectomy but I've stayed stable.

2019 was an incredible year and a great blessing to our family. So many wonderful and needed things happened. I know 2020 has already begun, but I'm excited to see what the rest of the year will bring. 

it's not a decision

Before I was even through unwrapping my Christmas presents, the dread began. The excitement and anticipation of the holidays was wearing off and my depression was beginning to build. Hard enough that I stuck my head into the sand (literally my pillow) and didn't emerge for three days. 

Jason and I have noticed that this happens with other overly anticipated events. I'm not disappointed with what occurs, just sad that it's over. After a few days of zombie-like behavior I swap into manic mode. This means I can't stand to be still, I'm impulsive and want out of the house at all costs. 

Going through these cycles makes me feel so lost. It feels like a huge set back when I had been doing so well. I know I have no control over when these episodes hit but it feels like I should have been more prepared. I could have battened-down the hatches, so to speak. Instead it hit me like a storm and swept me completely out to sea - to finish my sailing metaphor. 

I sink. And inevitably Jason and my parents take up all the slack. Living with bipolar and anxiety is not easy. Every day, landmines are laid, ready for the right sort of pressure to detonate them. 

Will I wake up manic and angry? Will I even get out of bed when the kids are complaining that they want breakfast? Will I quietly sob in the bathroom after snapping at Penny for something inconsequential?   

These demons I fight may only be in my head, but they are oh so real. 

Writing and thinking about this exhausts me. I want to go back to bed even though I barely left it yesterday. I'm slowly digging myself out of the trenches. Today I actually felt more like myself even though I got zero hours of sleep last night. My anxiety brain wouldn't let me rest, regardless of how many pills I took. 

I have to remember that today was better. Tomorrow will be better still. I look forward with hope that each day will get a little easier until I'm back on stable footing. I have to remind myself that this disease isn't me; it's just a part of who I am. And who I am is stronger than what my brain wants to throw at me. 

once more with feeling

I want to start blogging again. Regularly. But after all this time, I almost don't know where to begin. My last post was over a year ago and then two years for the post before that. 

Somewhere along the line I lost my confidence. I can blame it on the bipolar but it's probably just laziness. Laziness and a lack of feeling that my blog mattered.  Even to me.

I didn't write about Everett being born, which I regret immensely. I didn't write about my second foray into the mental hospital which was just last October. That was something I wanted to post for future reference. I haven't had the energy, the purpose or the words to document my life the way I wanted to when I started this blog. I had such high hopes for it back then. I'd write every few days, even if it was just a little, expressing my thoughts and feelings with great aplomb. 

Instead, a self-consciousness overcame my brain and I began worrying more about how people would view me as apposed to how I wanted to see me.  

I began comparing myself to others who had better pictures, better words and better lives. 

I sit here contemplating what to write about. My life isn't the most exciting. I'm an anxious, bipolar, stay at home mom who doesn't have grand adventures anymore. 

That last sentence makes me a little sad. 

I love my life and the people who share it but sometimes I feel I've lost my purpose. The gospel speaks of talents and gifts but I don't know that I've ever found mine. If I have, maybe the many medications have washed them from memory. 

So here we are again.

I know I've repeated myself in a dozen different posts about doing better at writing, but this time I mean it. Even if it's just being a little bit better. 

 

the first and the ninth

Back in September of 2007, for our first anniversary, Jason planned a surprise trip for us to Vegas. He arranged the flight, hotel, dinners out and even a Cirque du Soleil show, all without me knowing. It was supposed to be this incredibly romantic getaway celebrating one year of marriage. And it was thoughtful and romantic. Until I ruined it.